


When I fall asleep your eyes close

by QuestionMarkHeart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Child Abandonment, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Mpreg, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Everyone Is Alive, Extremely Dubious Consent, Jealousy, Jordan Parrish/Stiles Stilinski (very brief), Kid Fic, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Panic Attacks, Postpartum Depression, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Warning: Kate Argent, Werebaby, alternative universe, warning: discussion of abortion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-27 07:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2684216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuestionMarkHeart/pseuds/QuestionMarkHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One moment. One misunderstanding. Words left unsaid. It doesn't take a lot to throw someone onto a path they never saw coming. Stiles knows this better than most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz

**Author's Note:**

> I've used the rating "mature" mostly because of this chapter. I get that the topic of abortion is a very sensitive one for a lot of people so you can skip this bit if you feel it will be a trigger for you.
> 
> I'm using snippets from Poem: XVII by Pablo Neruda for those wondering :)

**3 weeks**

The magazines at the clinic are in poor taste in Stiles’ opinion. They have a _Cosmo_ with the title “How to satisfy your man in 10 steps” and underneath that _People_ magazine with a pregnant Kim Kardasian. The woman directly to his left is holding up a _Home and House_ magazine with a brightly smiling woman surrounded by equally shiny toddlers.

He can’t think of anything more inappropriate for an abortion clinic.

Stiles’ dad is arguing with the receptionist. Apparently they missed their slot about thirty minutes ago but that couldn’t be helped. The clinic is a good two hours away from Beacon Hills and Stiles spent the better part of the morning trying to figure out what to wear. It seemed like a waste of a good comedic moment not to dress up for the occasion. He likes to think he achieved the right level of _Juno_ with his layered shirts and baggy jeans combo. He wanted to stop on the way for jumbo bottle of orange juice but his dad wasn’t having that.

  
The thing is Stiles can’t take this seriously. He really can’t. Because every time he really thinks about it, thinks out what happens behind the beige door at the end of the hallway, he feels like he’s going to puke all over Taylor Swift’s face on _Cosmo’s_ cover. He knows it’s too early for morning sickness. After all, **MamaBear113** on WereBaby.com said she didn’t start feeling it until she was three months along.

  
Then again nothing about this is normal.

  
Stiles’ dad sits back down next to him clutching a clipboard with his medical information on it. His knuckles are white and there’s a slight shake to his hand as he fills out his name and then Stiles’. He wants to tell him sorry. Tell him that he wishes they were anywhere else but here.

He picks up _Cosmo_ instead.

  
The nurse that attends to Stiles’ smells like apple sours. He’s not sure how he feels being attended to by someone who smells like fruity alcohol but she doesn’t try to make small talk so that’s a blessing in itself.  
“You can just leave your clothes on the chair over there and change into this,” she hands him a pale pink hospital gown; “Dr Morris will be with you in a moment.”

She smiles at him with no teeth and it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She reminds him of one of the cashiers at the grocery store near school. She probably sees this all the time: no more noteworthy than someone breaking a couple eggs in aisle one. The image of smashed eggs and blood fill his head and he has to breathe through his nose and count.

10…9…8… _you can’t catch me, Sourwolf_ …7…6… _you know I’m ticklish, no fair_ …5…4… _I love you_.  
He can’t think of it. He just won’t think.

Dr Morris is a woman which doesn’t come as a surprise. Stiles spent hours searching online and she was the only doctor within driving distance that specialises in “cross species” abortions and it’s not like this kind of thing happens to men so…whatever…yeah it makes sense that she’s a woman.

“Good morning, Mr Stilinski. I’m Dr Morris and I’ll be your physician today.”

Duh, Stiles thinks.

“I’m sure you’ve read up a little bit on the procedure but I’ll explain exactly what I’m about to do before I do it.”

Stiles sits back on the medical examination chair (it’s pink too like pretty much everything in the room) and watches Dr Morris prep him. She sets his feet in those metal footholds you see in movies when characters visit the gynaecologist. He didn’t think those where real but apparently so. She calls the nurse back and together they begin wiping down utensils and setting them at his feet. All the while she talks.

He already knows what’s next. **CrazyWBoy** on Tumblr was very explicit in his blog post.

First she’s going to put on gloves (pink too) and then she’s going to lube up her fingers. Stiles braces himself for the cold, sleek breach of her fingers. He. Does. Not. Think.

Then comes the part that “sucks major balls, man” according to **CrazyWBoy**. Dr Morris inserts what looks like a clamp inside him and slowly stretches him open.

“I’m going to inject you with a local anaesthetic Mr Stilinski. Please hold still this could be a tad uncomfortable.”

That is an understatement and she knows it.

There’s no going back after that. She’s going to take that long metal thingamajig that looks a lot like a salad tosser and she’s going to reach right inside of him and “get that motherfucker out” ( **CrazyWBoy** is not a sensitive soul, that’s for sure). The thing is, Stiles keeps looking at the salad tosser thing even when Dr Morris tells him to relax and breathe. He keeps looking at it and thinks that’s what got him here in the first place. Letting Derek Fucking Hale toss his salad.

It’s not funny. It’s not funny at all but Stiles giggles. And then he giggles again and then he’s just fucking laughing. Dr Morris takes a step back like he’s lost his fucking mind and maybe he has. Maybe he’s finally lost it like he always thought he would and none of this is actually happening. That makes a lot more sense than the reality. Because there is no universe where he is about to let someone reach inside him and rip away his baby.

His. Baby.

“I can’t do this. Get this shit out of me. I can’t do it.”


	2. Or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know you don’t have to go right?”  
> Stiles is seated in the passenger side of his idling jeep next to his dad. The back of the jeep is so heavily packed with boxes of his stuff he can’t see the driveway they are parked in.  
> “Dad, I know.”

**8 weeks**

“You know you don’t have to go right?”  
Stiles is seated in the passenger side of his idling jeep next to his dad. The back of the jeep is so heavily packed with boxes of his stuff he can’t see the driveway they are parked in.  
“Dad, I know.”  
Stiles looks at his dad. He looks pretty much the same as he did two months ago, before all of this, but he’s tired. Stiles is pretty sure his dad hasn’t slept a full night’s worth of sleep since they left the abortion clinic.  
“I know you decided not to do this in Beacon Hills but I can come with you,” his dad says.

Stiles knows his dad loves him. He knows he would give up his job in a second if it meant they could stay together through this. But Stiles isn’t about to let anyone give up anything for him. So here they are, sitting in an overheated car full of clothes that Stiles won’t fit in a few months and a heaviness Stiles hasn’t been able to shake since he decided to be a single father.  
“This is for the best. I’m only a couple hours away. You can see me whenever you want without having to leave work.”

They’ve been through this already. It was the sheriff that made the call to one of his late wife’s old friends asking if Stiles could stay with her. It was the sheriff that went to Stiles’ high school and filled out all the paperwork to transfer him to a new school for his senior year. It was the sheriff that packed up all of Stiles’ things while Stiles sat cross-legged in his bathroom waiting for the ever-present nausea to pass.

Stiles can see Mindy peaking through the curtain of what must be the kitchen. He’s glad that she’s giving them a second alone so they say their goodbyes (or really, see you laters). He watches her bend down and pick up her daughter, placing her on her hip and letting the curtain fall back into place.

“At least I can get a little practise playing Mama before D-day, right?”

“Don’t, Stiles…just…don’t.” The sheriff rubs at his brow and leans his head on the steering wheel. Stiles hesitates only a moment before rubbing big circles on his father’s back. “I just…I wish I had known. I wish I could have done something…”  
Stiles hates this part. He hates that his dad hasn’t shouted at him. He hates that he’s not angry or disappointed. He genuinely thinks this is his fault somehow.

“You stop that right now,” Stiles slumps in his seat and let’s out a breath he’s been holding in for what feels like forever, “this isn’t your fault. This just happened. And yeah, it sucks that I’m one of those cautionary tales people are gonna talk about in homeroom. And yeah, it would have been a lot more convenient if that had happened even a couple years from. But there’s no going back. I’m doing this. I don’t want anything from you but your support.”

“Jesus Stiles, you know you have that. The only reason I’m sending you here is because Dr Deaton is walking distance away.”  
Stiles knows that. He knows the statistics and how important it is that he lives close to a physician. He also knows that Dr Deaton is the only OB-GYN in the state that is willing to touch Stiles’ case.

“I know, dad. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to be okay.”

There’s a pause, a heavy silence, because they both know how uncertain that is.  
“He should be here. He did this to you. What kind of man just…fuck I’m going to kill him.”

They’ve been through this part too.

“No, you are not. You’re going to leave the Hales alone. I’m going to leave the Hales alone. This is a no Hale zone. Zero Hale…clear sky forecasted for the foreseeable future.”  
His dad gives him an unimpressed expression and it’s so familiar, so light, that is makes him smile.

It feels good to smile.

Mindy reminds Stiles’ of one of those Victorian era paintings. She’s all dark hair and pale skin and curvy in a way that remind Stiles of his mother. The last time Stiles saw her was at his mother’s funeral, trying and failing to control her tears. She folds him into a hug and starts talking like it hasn’t been close to ten years.

  
“I’ve cleared out my craft room for you. There should be plenty of room for all your stuff but if there isn’t we can put some stuff in Ivy’s room,” she says while she pulls out a duffle bag full of textbooks from the jeep while still holding ivy against her hip. Stiles wonders if that’s a skill he’s going to obtain. “We’ll just get you settled in and then we can have lunch.”  
It takes them all two trips to empty Stiles’ life from the back of his jeep to a coral coloured room that smells discretely of glue but mostly of wool. He spots a couple baskets full of half finished projects and balls of yarn. Stiles didn’t realise he was coming to live with Martha Stewart.

  
“My room is next door,” Ivy tells him around her thumb (or he thinks that’s what she said because she seems to think r is pronounced as w). “We can play when Mama is busy.”  
She gives him a toothy grin that makes her look just like her mother for a second before making grabby hands at him. The sheriff and Mindy share an indulgent look as Mindy passes Ivy to him. The kid is heavy for a four year old. Or maybe she’s just right. Stiles doesn’t have much experience with little kids.

  
Ivy settles her head at the crook of her neck and takes a big sniff. She rubs her cheek against the juncture between his neck and shoulder and hums a little.

  
“You smell nice. I like you,” she says and then she wolfs out.

  
The sheriff is the only one in the room that’s at all startled. Her mom looks relieved like Stiles was going to fail the sniff test. Stiles just makes sure her claws stay on his shirt and away from skin. Stiles starts rocking back and forth and listens to her purr (because what’s coming out of her mouth is too darn cute to be called a growl). He rubs her back, lays his chin on top of her soft curly head and breathes in himself.

  
He catches his father’s eye and the expression on his face is too complicated for Stiles’ to figure out. He doesn’t really want to because this is the least complicated he has felt in a while.

  
He can do this.

  
He’s going to be the best fucking teen dad anyone’s ever seen.

**10 weeks**

  
Stiles is dying.

  
He has to be because there is no way he can throw up one more time and not just drop dead against the toilet bowl.

What a dignified way to go, he thinks.

  
Ivy has been making distressed little mewls from the other side of the door for the past twenty minutes. He’s sorry to be freaking the kid out but there’s not much he can do about it. He texted Mindy around noon letting her know that there’s no more ginger. It seems the only thing that helps is a heap of ginger and lemon tea (the fresh stuff ‘cause the teabags don’t smell right and just make him want to puke more).

  
Mindy get’s back from work at five but up until then he’s babysitting Ivy as per their agreement. Stiles would live with her rent free as long as he took care of Ivy and looked after the house. Stiles figured it was a fair trade considering he needed the practise anyway. He’d learned more things about little werewolves in the past two weeks than he had even on Werebaby.com.

  
Like, for example, Ivy has the world’s most sensitive nose. Stiles once cut up an onion for lasagne in the kitchen and found her tearing up in the living room (two rooms away). And that’s why Ivy is on the other side of the door and not curled up next to him like he would like. As much as he loves his cuddles, he doesn’t want to subject her little nose to this.

  
“Ssh…baby, I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  
Stiles is okay. He would rather not be upchucking every other meal but he knows this is normal. He posted in a group chat on Werebaby.com about his morning sickness (he was worried that is wasn’t actually isolated to just the morning) and he got a lot of sympathetic posts about how it’s totally normal.  
 **MamaBear113** said she has morning sickness with her third son for two trimesters. She’s the one that recommended the tea. Best believe stiles gave her like twenty hearts and smiley emoticons. Stiles lies back on the tiled floor enjoying the cold. He listens to Ivy shuffling off the floor and a moment later he can hear Powerpuff Girls doing their thing from the TV.

  
You’ve got to love the classics.

  
He pulls out his phone and scrolls though his messages. He already knows what they say.

  
 **ScottTheManMcCall:** where u at man? U’ve been scarce.

  
 **ScottTheManMcCall:** Dude, where you? Get back to me.

  
 **ScottTheManMcCall:** Just answer your phone ok? I know u and Derek broke up but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.

  
 **ScottTheManMcCall:** Dude. Dude. Dude.

  
 **ScottTheManMcCall:** What the fuck? U left school???????? Call me.

  
 **ScottTheManMcCall:** I don’t know what’s going on but I saw ur dad. He didn’t even say hi to me. Getting worried. Just answer ur phone so I know you’re ok.

  
 **ScottTheManMcCall:** Call me   

  
 **ScottTheManMcCall:** Fine. Whateva.

  
Stiles feels like shit for a second before he feels the little flutter in the pit of his stomach that reminds him why it has to be like this. Dr Deaton calls it a phantom kick. He says that it’s too early for Bean to be kicking at him (Stiles has to call the baby something and it looked like a bean on his first ultrasound so sue him) but the feeling he gets is no less real.

  
He can’t talk to Scott. He can’t get him involved because he knows what he’ll do. He’ll make a scene or some grand gesture like leaving the Hale pack. He’ll become an omega living on another pack’s territory and Stiles knows that sucks major balls. He’ll be ousted by all the other werewolves in Beacon Hills. No one will talk to him or associate themselves with him. Even with Derek leaving for college, everyone at school will know he’s been axed by the pack and he’ll get shit for it.

  
So yeah, not calling him is almost as hard as not calling Derek. His finger hovers above Scott’s contact almost as much as it hovers above Derek’s. But he needs a chance. He needs a chance to get his life in order.Summer will be over in a few weeks and Stiles will be doing correspondence work with the closest high school near him and maybe he can still do it. He can still go to Berkley like his mom and graduate and give Bean a good life. And maybe Scott will forgive him one day.

  
Or not…but he has other things to worry about.

  
Stiles exits his messages and goes online instead. His search engine already has his history up and a click away. Research has always been Stiles’ strong point. Even when he was little he didn’t take anything anyone else said at face value. He distinctly remembers sitting on his mom’s lap and watching her flip through research books on everything from the mating habits of penguins in the South Pole to the complete history of Alexander the Great. Stiles is pretty sure he inherited his ADHD (no matter if his paediatrician said otherwise).  
So Stiles is following five blogs, one twitter page (very snarky mom of banshee twins) and signed to three early development websites. As much as Mindy has been open about talking to him about what to expect, at the end of the day she’s a wolf and a woman. Her experience will be nothing like his so he feels it’s important to throw a wide net and gather as much information as possible.

  
It isn’t easy though. There’s a reason there are abortion clinics that cater specifically to cross species pregnancies. Out of all the documented pregnancies in North America only twenty percent relate to pregnancies between species. It isn’t impossible for a human to get pregnant from a werewolf without turning but highly unlikely. Of that twenty percent only something like two percent relate to male pregnancies. And the worst part: there have only been five successful deliveries of male cross species pregnancies in America.  
The logical part of Stiles gets it. Man or woman, a cross species pregnancy is going to be high risk. Your body is unlikely to recognise foreign body cells upon fertilisation. The chance that your body rejects the embryo is way more likely than the chance of you carrying it to term. Most people get abortions because they prefer that trauma to the risk of losing their baby in the second or third trimester.

  
It took Stiles’ weeks to find Dr Deaton. Every other OB-GYN he talked to recommended an abortion. They took one look at him and completely ignored what he wanted. But Dr Deaton isn’t your typical medical-certificates-on-the-wall kind of doctor. At their first appointment he had Stiles sit cross-legged on a cushion in his office and do breathing exercises. Then he gave Stiles some sickly brown juice that makes Stiles feel like he just licked a tree every time he drinks it but is apparently supposed to “cleanse his spirit”.  
So yeah, Stiles knows the next seven months aren’t going to be easy. He could wake up one day with bloody sheets and an empty stomach. He could go into cardiac arrest or any other of the lovely side effects of having a dick and being pregnant. His body just isn’t designed to carry a baby to term.

Him getting pregnant was almost a statistic impossibility.  
But here he is.


	3. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is thirteen when he first sees Kate.  
> She’s stunning in a fire engine red dress standing outside the post office next to this ancient blue beetle. Her hair is long and curly and so blonde Derek can’t focus on any other detail for the full ten seconds it takes to stop his bike at the curb.   
> Then his eyes drift and it’s thigh and naked arms and so much skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, big trigger warning here. This is where the underage bad-touch part of this fic comes in. Nothing graphic but skip this bit if you think it'll be a problem for you.

**Derek is thirteen.**

Derek is thirteen when he first sees Kate.  
She’s stunning in a fire engine red dress standing outside the post office next to this ancient blue beetle. Her hair is long and curly and so blonde Derek can’t focus on any other detail for the full ten seconds it takes to stop his bike at the curb. Then his eyes drift and it’s thigh and naked arms and so much _skin_.  
She looks like something out of the old style movies his Uncle Peter likes to watch with his mom. He thinks he’s never seen anything quite so perfect…and then she looks at him.

Derek is thirteen the first time he actually talks to Kate.  
She’s staying with her brother and his house is on his paper route. Derek stops his bike when he sees her car and takes longer than it actually should to take out their newspaper. He takes it right to their door hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He doesn’t plan on actually talking to her but then she opens the door. Her scent hits him in all directions.

She smells amazing…like all his favourite things wrapped up in hugs and kisses from his mom. She smells like comfort and home.

Derek is thirteen when he thinks he’s found his mate.

Kate is 24.

The first time Kate touches him he’s not expecting it. They’re in a movie theatre a town away. Derek is wearing a suit jacket and cologne. He’s happy Kate isn’t a wolf because she’d be able to tell he’s wearing nerves too.

Kate chooses the movie just like she chooses where to watch it and when. His parents think he’s hanging out friends. His friends think he’s sick at home but, no, he’s with the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

The movie is a horror flick but Derek isn’t paying attention because Kate is wearing shorts. You know the little denim kind that cut across the thighs? Kate’s scent is making him dizzy. He feels like taking a nap right there on the plush theatre seats. He wants to lay back, belly up for her.  
It’s a new and terrifying feeling.

Kate doesn’t react to any of the gore. If Derek was paying attention he might have asked himself why her scent didn’t change while she was with him. She never got scared or nervous or even excited. The only time he noticed a shift in her scent was when she placed her hand on his thigh. He smelt it then. Something like burning sulphur. Like someone lit a bunch of matches and blow them all out at the same time. Derek isn’t sure he likes that smell but it’s okay because the rest of her smells perfect.

Derek lets her squeeze and rub his thigh. His hands feel clammy and he’s not sure if he’s supposed to be touching her too. She shifts down in her chair and opens her legs. The smell of sulphur intensifies. His heart is beating double time by the time she palms his penis through his jeans.  
He can’t help but think wrong wrong wrong for a second but that can’t be. Kate is his mate.  
This is what mates do.  
His mom and dad hug and kiss all the time. When Aunt Helen was alive her and Peter used to touch eachother too. So when Kate unbuttons his jeans he doesn’t stop her.

“Just close your eyes, Derek. Breathe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my reasons for this chapter are pretty straight-forward. I've always been a little skeptical about how the relationship between Kate and Derek was portrayed. Initially I never thought of it as untoward (well other than the burning his family alive bit) until that episode in season 4 (spoiler alert) when Derek regresses back to a teenager. He kisses Kate like it's nothing even though she's obviously older than him in that episode. So that got me wondering  
> 1) how big the age gap between them actually was and;  
> 2) if there was maybe another reason why Derek never talked about it (besides the guilt)  
> Kate was psychotic enough to burn a family alive so it's not that big a stretch to include ephebophilic tendencies.


	4. In secret, between the shadow and the soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The condom is slippery in Derek’s hand. He didn’t think it would feel so weird. He doesn’t like the latex smell but he puts it on anyway while Kate watches.
> 
> Her lips are blood red. She licks them.
> 
> “I’m going to make you feel really good, Derek. We’re mates right? This is okay,” she whispers hot in his ear.
> 
> “Yeah…mates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, those sensitive at heart should be wry. More bad-touching in this chapter so be warned.

**Derek is fourteen.**

Derek is fourteen and its summer.  
Every summer before he’s gone off to camp with his cousins. He loves camping. He loves meeting other kids and making new friends. Loves the cheesy camp fire stories and the smell of melting marshmallows and chocolate.

Derek isn’t going to camp this year. He tells his parents he wants to work during the summer to save up a little pocket money before he starts high school but really he wants to be with Kate.

Derek bikes into town every day and stashes his bike before he waits for Kate to pick him up. They hang out at her brother’s place most of the time. Derek becomes accustomed to the feeling of her bed beneath him, her desk, the carpet and one time the windowsill. The wrong wrong wrong feeling he gets never really goes away but Derek figures he’s just feeling guilty about sneaking around.

He knows Kate is scared she won’t be allowed to see him if anyone finds out. Not everyone understands mated pairs, she tells him. She’s human so the same laws don’t apply. They might try to keep them apart.

So Derek doesn’t ask her to meet his family. He doesn’t introduce her to his friends. He spends long summer days sweaty and shivering beneath her; yielding to every touch and bite. Kate doesn’t like to kiss. She likes to bite at his lips and lick into his mouth. He sometimes wishes she would kiss him the way his mom kisses his dad (tenderly and softly) but he gets that she’s just more passionate than that.

Derek is fourteen when he loses his virginity.  
They do it in the back of her car because Chris is home that night. They are parked outside an abandoned road just outside the reserve. Derek is nervous about being so close to his family’s territory but he’s got a lap full of Kate so he forces himself not to think about it.

The sulphur smell is thick in the air overpowering her usually pleasant scent. She keeps stopping to bite at his neck and he’s not sure he likes that. It makes him think of when he was a pup and his mom could carry him around at the scruff of his neck. It makes him think of forced submission. He wonders if Kate knows what that means for a wolf.

The condom is slippery in Derek’s hand. He didn’t think it would feel so weird. He doesn’t like the latex smell but he puts it on anyway while Kate watches.

Her lips are blood red. She licks them.

“I’m going to make you feel really good, Derek. We’re mates right? This is okay,” she whispers hot in his ear.

“Yeah…mates.”

Derek is fourteen and he hates school.  
He’s failing two classes and he keeps getting into arguments with his parents. They keep asking him what’s wrong, what’s going on, where did their happy little boy go? Derek is frustrated and angry. He wants to try harder in school but he’s so tired all the time.

Kate takes up a lot of time. She wants to see him every day and the only time he can is after school and basketball practise. Even on the days that he doesn’t see Kate, all he wants to do is sleep. His friends from middle school don’t come round anymore, having made new friends during the summer. Derek can’t find it within himself to care.

But Derek knows he has to try harder or his parents will get suspicious. He knows it’s only a matter of time before they find out about everything and he doesn’t want them blaming Kate.

So he doesn’t skip any basketball practises and he tries harder to fit in. He goes to parties and talks to girls. There’s one girl, Paige, that he knows likes him. She’s always practising in the music room when he’s on his way to practise. He likes the little mole by her eye and the way she smiles.

Kate doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like that he has friends that aren’t her. She doesn’t like that he goes to his winter formal with Paige. She doesn’t touch him for a week after that.

He’s secretly relieved.

Derek knows the myth. Werewolves are meant to mate for life. He knows there’s some truth to that. He knows his parents have been together since they were freshmen in college and Uncle Peter hasn’t dated anyone since Aunt Helen.

He knows this.

So why does he feel so suffocated by Kate?

 

**Derek is fifteen.**

 

Derek is fifteen when he breaks up with Kate.  
She slaps him across the face.

They are standing outside her brother’s house in their backyard. The weather has been turbulent the past couple of days. Kate is standing with her back to the wind and all Derek can smell is burning sulphur. It makes him choke a bit.

She doesn’t smell like comfort and home anymore.

Derek turns around to leave but Kate stops him.

“Don’t go, Derek. I love you.”

The wind isn’t enough to cover up the slight double time of her heart. He turns around. If she’s going to lie, he wants it done to his face.

He watches her take a deep breath. It’s the most panicked he’s ever seen her. She smells like desperation and want.

“And what if I was pregnant,” she’s crying now, mascara running down her cheeks, “would you abandon your own baby?”

And Derek’s world phases out, focuses on her. Suddenly all the possessive behaviour makes sense. No wonder she’s on edge. No wonder she’s not herself.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks her.

“You’ve been distracted lately. You haven’t had time for me.”

Derek wraps his arms around her and presses her to his chest.

“You’re my mate. I’ll always be here for you,” he looks down at her flat stomach, “and our little one when the time comes.”

Derek is fifteen when Kate plans for them to run away.  
Derek doesn’t want to leave his family but he knows they have to leave Beacon Hills so they can be a family without anyone trying to keep them apart. No one will understand their love, Kate says. They will try to tell him that she’s wrong for him. He won’t ever see his baby. They have to leave.

“We’re going to have to break into the Hale family vault. I’m sure your family has savings in there. There will be enough to start a new life, Derek. You, me and the baby.”

So Derek breaks into the vault late one night while Kate is “tying up some loose ends”, as she put it. They’re going to leave Beacon Hills in the morning with Uncle Peter’s bonds, a couple suitcases and Kate’s beetle. They will keep driving until they feel like stopping. Kiss in public no matter who is watching and raise their kid together.

Derek is leaving the vault, thinking about what their baby will look like (will she or he have her blonde hair? Will they be Were like him or human like her?) when someone comes at him from behind. He has barely a second to respond before he feels the prick of a needle in his neck.

He goes down.

He feels someone lifting the suitcase full of bonds from his arms.

“This was too easy, you know,” all Derek can see is the tips of her shoes but he knows it’s her, “you ate right out of my hand like a good little puppy. You had me worried there for a minute but I tell you I’m pregnant and you crawl right back. Predictable.”

Derek feels like he’s dying. He could be because he knows Kate injected him with wolfsbane. He can feel it spreading life a wild fire. He imagines his veins collapsing like tree trunks.

“All I had to do was buy some of that cheap hormone spray online and you were sniffing like a dog in heat. Thank you, Derek. No really, thank you. I’m going to live a very comfortably because of you. I can’t say the same thing about your family.”

And Derek tries to get up. He tries to follow her but the needle is still lodged in his neck and his world keeps fading in and out of focus. All he can do is wait and hope the effects will wear off in time for him to catch up to her.

All he can do it breathe and fight the panic.

Derek is fifteen years old when Kate Argent tries to rob and kill his family.  
He is fifteen and in hospital for two weeks blinking in and out of a comma as his body rejects a rare form of wolfsbane slowly and painfully. He has visitors in that time. His mom never leaves. His dad brings his cousins by after work. Cora and Laura come after school, drabbling on and on about homework and basketball matches and some weird kid in Cora’s class that she thinks has ADHD.

The only person that tells him everything is Peter. Peter tells him about Kate’s family and what they do. Peter tells him about how she knew every inch of the Hale property after studying it for ages. How she knew how to get into the house without setting off any alarms. He tells him about the gasoline with no inclination in his voice. No accusation or anger.

Peter tells him it’s not his fault. That he is young and she was pretty and they caught her in time. It’s going to be okay, everyone is okay, he says.

Except, everyone is not okay.

It’s not until the police come with their thick notepad paper asking for more details that everything comes out. His family thought Kate talked him into showing him the vault. That they had just met. They don’t know that’s it’s been years.

Derek is fifteen the first time he makes his mother cry.


	5. I love you as the plant that never blooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deaton squirts the gel onto Stiles’ stomach and rubs over it with the scanner. Stiles looks over at the monitor. His bean is definitely not a bean anymore. It’s still a bit early to see Bean’s gender but Stiles can make out little fingers and what he thinks is a foot.
> 
> “Okay, just give it a moment…”
> 
> The room is silent waiting for Bean’s heartbeat.
> 
> “That’s strange,” Deaton says.

**15 weeks**

Stiles is quickly reassessing his admiration for Dr Deaton.  
He always thought that the best part of being pregnant would be all the shit he could eat and not feel guilty (not that he felt guilty before but whatever). But no here he is craving something greasy or sugary (or both) but there’s nothing but veggies and meat in the fridge.

Dr Deaton spent his last appointment with Stiles and the sheriff explaining the importance of a healthy diet. His body needs all the nutrients it can get and he’s not going to find that in a plate of curly fries (Stiles thinks that’s debateable. Potatoes are vegetables after all).  
Stiles can still see his father’s smug face as Mindy went through all the cabinets disposing of anything remotely tasty.

But yeah, Stiles gets it. There’s a reason he’s taking up jogging with Ivy every morning. Male pregnancies aren’t just dangerous for the baby but for the man too. A woman’s body is specifically designed to handle the adjustment of carrying a growing human. Stiles has seen photos of what a woman’s body looks like from the inside the further along a pregnancy is. A woman’s body is designed to handle the pressure of a baby pressing against vital organs.

A man, however, isn’t as lucky.

A temporary uterus forms around the foetus if the pregnancy gets that far. The foetus is surrounded in amniotic fluid and placenta, just like it would be with a woman, which protects it from any trauma but it’s just not as strong. He’s read about men simply tripping or bumping into something and next thing they are being taking to hospital.

And then there’s the actual birth part of it. The anal cavity secretes a clear fluid towards the end of the pregnancy which is supposed to help with the delivery of the baby. The muscles around the anus will contract upon labour just like the vaginal walls would. In theory, a man should be perfectly capable of delivering a baby. In practise complications almost always arise. If the baby is not positioned properly and the OB-GYN is not skilled enough to shift the baby in time that could mean a world of pain for the father and/or a dead baby. That’s why it’s so important Stiles is healthy so his water breaks only when it’s supposed to and with Dr Deaton at the ready to perform a C-section.

“Stiles, can I have juice please,” Ivy asks from the breakfast bar (except it really comes out more like ‘iles, can I have joo pwease).

Stiles pours some freshly squeezed orange juice into her sippie cup and watches her gulp it down. She’s still in her Hello Kitty nightie and they’re running late. Stiles has to meet with Dr Deaton twice a week. He’s grateful that the doctor is doing a research paper on cross species pregnancies so he’s not charging Stiles for the visits. Stiles will only have to front the bill on any hospitalisations and pre-natal meds. It’s a good thing too because Stiles is still on his father’s medical aid which doesn’t cover any of this stuff (why would it? Last year the biggest thing Stiles needed was an x-ray for a sprained ankle from lacrosse and not an ultrasound).

Stiles printed the application forms for new medical aid this morning and has spent the better part of the morning shifting through legal jargon. His biggest worry was about being underage but it seems like there’s a lot he doesn’t get. He pushes it out his mind for the second and herds Ivy upstairs to get dressed.

The sheriff is waiting in the driveway once they’ve got their shit together. They’ve been looking forward to this appointment for weeks.

“You ready to hear little Bean for the first time,” he asks his dad.  
“Actually no. I would rather not tear up in front of my son. I practically wept when I heard your heart beat for the first time.”

Stiles buckles Ivy into her car seat then hops into the passenger seat. He rubs a hand across his stomach and imagines what he will look when he blows up. He was scared at first about how his body will change but now he’s kind of anticipating the swell. He mentioned his fears on Werebaby.com and **MamaBear113** tagged him in a post.

 

_There is nothing more meaningful in the world than giving life. Everything else is superficial in comparison. You are one body with two heartbeats._

_You are brave and beautiful._

 

Stiles knows he’s luckier than most people. A lot of people don’t get this far in their pregnancies. And now he gets to hear his little bean for the first time.

He’s so fucking ready.

 

Stiles has always liked Dr Deaton’s office. He doesn’t have an examination chair which he’s grateful for because it would probably make him think of Dr Morris and the abortion clinic. Instead he has a comfy leather chair that reclines a bit. Stiles always plays with the tassels on the green knit blanket thrown over it.

The sheriff is sitting on one of the plush couches with Ivy on his lap listening intently to her rendition of what happened on _Gravity Falls_ last night. Stiles has never watched so much Disney is his fucking life.

“Okay, Stiles. This is going to cold but I’m sure you’ve watched enough TV to know that,” the good doctor says.

Deaton squirts the gel onto Stiles’ stomach and rubs over it with the scanner. Stiles looks over at the monitor. His bean is definitely not a bean anymore. It’s still a bit early to see Bean’s gender but Stiles can make out little fingers and what he thinks is a foot.

“Okay, just give it a moment…”

The room is silent waiting for Bean’s heartbeat.

“That’s strange,” Deaton says.

Stiles starts to panic. Why isn’t he hearing anything? What’s strange. What’s wrong with his baby? He wants to ask Deaton but he can feel the panic rising up inside him starting to choke off any words before they can form.

“Stiles, calm down. Breathe,” he breathes, “Good. Everything is fine Stiles. Your baby just fine.”  
Deaton rubs the gel off his stomach and pulls his shirt down.

“Why can’t we hear the heartbeat,” the sheriff asks.  
“It seems this pregnancy is a little more special than we first thought. Let’s sit at my desk and I’ll explain.”

Stiles settles down next to his father with Ivy on his lap. She’s rubbing her cheek against his neck and patting his chest softly. She can obviously sense the tension in the room and it’s making her nervous.

“Have you ever heard of a spark, Stiles?”

He nods. Everyone knows about sparks. It’s one of the first things you learn about in kindergarten. They teach you about shape shifters and vampires, banshees and fairies. Then they teach you about sparks. He knows not everyone has one. He remembers that sometime around the fifth grade every kid has to be examined by a druid or someone licensed in the magical arts. Then they round up all the magical kids and send them to schools that will teach them how to rein in their power. He remembers the day the letters came flying in. No really, they flew all around town because apparently magical schools don’t know how to use email.

“Sheriff, did you ever take Stiles to get tested for a spark?”

“I…I mean I don’t remember but I’m sure I did. Every kid got tested….right?”

And then the sheriff looked at Stiles and Stiles looked at him and it dawned on them both.

“That was around the time Stiles’ mom died.”

“Well, it seems that your son has quite the spark and it’s making it hard to get any clear readings on his baby.”

“Wait…wait just a minute,” all eyes fell on him, “are you telling me I could have been flying on broomsticks and making Jackson Whittemore vomit slugs all this time?”

“Of course that’s what you care about. You find out you’re not completely human and that’s all you can think of,” his dad chuckles. “So what does this mean for the baby?”

“There are different kinds of magic. Different levels of power. Stiles has had no training…no formal education but his spark is strong. So strong in fact that Stiles is emitting a protection ward around the foetus without realising it.”

“So basically I’m a badass without trying.”

“Stiles, language,” the sheriff scolds with a look to Ivy.

“Sorry.”

“Right…well, at the moment Stiles is masking his pregnancy.”

“What does that mean?”

“Basically, anyone that comes near you is not going to be able to detect your pregnancy. You are successfully masking your scent and the heartbeat of your baby.”

Deaton pulls out a couple thick looking books and Stiles’ heart sinks. He was going to have enough work on his plate trying to graduate on time and now he was expected to learn everything he should shave since he was ten?

“These books should give a little insight on how to understand and control your spark. I recommend you read all of them.”

Stiles rolls his eyes but takes the stack anyway. It is super awesome that he is apparently protecting Bean unintentionally but maybe the books could teach him how to protect Bean when he/she is born.

That night Stiles’ alternates between research on delayed spark detection (because he can’t be the only person in the world that didn’t realise they had a spark) and filling out his medical aid application.

The former doesn’t bring up much except for details on adult magic classes. Stiles figures he can always take a couple later on if self-study doesn’t work. The latter brings up a world of information Stiles kind of wishes he didn’t know.

See, Stiles gets that there’s a lot of inequality in the world. He gets that when you’re living in a world full of different species all trying to coexist it’s hard to make everyone happy. For example, there are vampire activist groups that campaign for more lax laws as far as “human consumption” is concerned but if the government allowed that then…well…poor humans.

So, okay, he can dig that there might be different laws that pertain to werewolves as to humans (or a somewhat human in Stiles’ case). He just didn’t realise how complicated it can get as a human giving birth to supernatural child.

Stiles zeroes in on the section of the application that relates to _Shapeshifters, mates and associated parties_.

Stiles figures he qualifies as an associated party.

But this is where it gets shifty. Apparently, only packs qualify for half of these benefits. Sure, omegas can still get stuff like dental care or whatever (they’re not that cruel) but they get no say when it comes to their beneficiaries. If an omega’s child got sick, they couldn’t be the sole decision maker. Someone from the state would be assigned to the case. If an omega dies and leaves behind a minor child that child also becomes property of the state (even if that omega had a will stating who they wanted to take care of their kid).

And the worst part? As an unmated human with no pack, Stiles is considered an omega.

Stiles does a lot of pacing and pissed off talking to himself. By the time Mindy gets home from work he’s a bundle of nerves.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart,” she asks.

“Did you know how unfair the government is to omegas? Did you know what little rights they have over their own children?”

Mindy sighs and drops her briefcase on the breakfast table. She picks up Ivy who has been colouring silently, letting the adults talk.

“It’s common knowledge that most shapeshifters place a lot of value on packs. Even lone species of shifters have packs even if they choose not to travel with them. The idea of a pack is just like one of a family. A child is no longer just yours but the pack’s. All decisions on childcare fall not just to the parents but to the pack as a whole. If everyone does their part and open communication is encouraged, a pack can be a great asset.”

“Fine, I get that. Yay, packs everywhere. What I don’t get is why the government thinks they have a right to tell me how to care for my baby just because I don’t have a mate or an alpha?”

“The laws in place are there to encourage more people to join packs. Packs don’t just offer support but financial, mental and emotional stability. In theory, if all shapeshifters are part of packs then the communities they live in can worry less about violence due to the control provided by the pack. The government will have less of a fiscal burden as they won’t have to care for lone shifters without financial support. In theory, packs add more value economically and socially than not.”

“If you think so strongly about the benefits of packs then why aren’t you and Ivy in one?”

“I already said, packs work in theory. In reality, very few packs have born wolves. Most are made up of people that just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and got the bite,” Stiles thinks of Scott briefly but shakes it off, “A lot of alphas never get the appropriate training or even have the resources to provide for a group of people. A lot of shifters would love to be in a pack but just can’t find the right fit.”

Mindy pauses and gives Stiles a considering look.

“In truth, omegas get the blunt end of the stick. It’s not just about medical aid, Stiles. Omegas have to deal with social workers that don’t think they can care for their child without a pack. You get life insurance companies that refuse to offer cover to omegas or if they do, the premiums are ridiculous. In California, an unmated omega cannot purchase property. An unmated omega cannot own the bare dominium on any fixed property or be the sole beneficiary of any trust. There are ways to get around it of course.”

“Ways like how?”

“When a new pack is starting out they have to register as one. An alpha will sign a document at the registry that lists them as the head of the pack. A lot of omegas find themselves alphas that are willing to list them as pack mates without infringing on the way they live. That’s what Ivy and I have done.”

“That sounds a tad illegal.”

“Unethical? Maybe. But perfectly legal. This way if anything happens to me they have a legal obligation to adhere to my will and Ivy will not be registered as an omega so she can take ownership of my estate.”

“What does the alpha get out of it?”

“Tax deductions.”

“Really,” he asks incredulously.

“Really.”

 

Stiles ends up going to bed early. He plonks himself on the million little throw cushions Mindy has on his bed and opens up his laptop. He’s a member of a chat room specifically for parents of children of different species (try saying that five times fast) and he just needs to get someone else’s opinion.

**DaddyBean is online**

**DaddyBean:** Any unmated parents or guardians out there that can shed some light on being registered as an omega? Has anyone had legal problems because you’re not the same species as your kid?

**ILikeThemSparkling is online**

**ILikeThemSparkling:** I have. Before I was turned by my husband I was human and pregnant. My husband is a vampire so we do not qualify as shapeshifters but the same general principle applied. No one thought I could be a good mom to my daughter if we weren’t the same species. They wouldn’t let me list myself as a guardian when I was pregnant with her even though I was married (the equivalent of mating).

 **DaddyBean:** Shit, that sucks man. What did you have to do in the end?

 **ILikeThemSparkling:** Nothing. My husband had to turn me when I gave birth to save my life. As soon as I classified as a vampire all the rights that should have been mine anyway revoked back to me.

Stiles takes a moment to remember what he does about vampire/human births. It reinforces what he already thinks about vampires. They’re all so fucking dramatic. Why burst through the stomach like a bad scene from a horror movie. Why not exit the perfectly functioning vagina _right there_? He doesn’t say that though.

**ProfessorAwesome is online**

**ProfessorAwesome:** Unfortunately, unless you are willing to turn (if that’s even a possibility with your child’s species) AND marry/mate your partner OR find a suitable alpha (if you’re little one is a shifter) there isn’t much you can do legally.

 **DaddyBean:** I hear there are loopholes though. Ways to register with an alpha but not be part of a pack?

 **ProfessorAwesome:** I’m not sure that’s much better. My step father was an alpha and he made my childhood hell. I’m trying to get custody of my sister without submitting to some bastard with a god complex.

 **MetalBender:** Not all alphas are dicks.

 **ProfessorAwesome:** The ones I’ve met have been.

 **MetalBender:** Maybe you just haven’t met the right one. I’m not saying I agree with the policies in place. They’re not fair to omegas but they don’t favour alphas either.

 **ProfessorAwesome:** Aw, please save me your privileged sob story.

 **MetalBender:** Society thinks a single parent of another species is unfit regardless of whether they are biologically an alpha or beta. I’m an alpha and the father to a little boy with a spark and I get shat on daily. I might get good premiums on my life insurance or better dental care but who gives a shit about that if I can’t even get my son enrolled to a good magic school because all the druids think he’s “unstable” without a good “pack mom” to handle him. We all have our stereotypes to conquer, not just you.

**ProfessorAwesome has requested a private chat with MetalBender**

**DaddyBean has logged out**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I slipped a couple other fandoms in this chapter. I couldn't help it :)  
> So see if you can guess which ones (though I figure they're pretty obvious).


	6. but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay…so I’m just going to go somewhere that’s not here because you’re giving off a serious Silence of the Lambs vibe right now and I’m quite attached to my skin.”
> 
> The boy is backing away; scent soured by anxiety and just like that, Derek knows what he wants to do.
> 
> “I can…I can give you a ride where you want to go,” he says.

**Derek is sixteen**

Derek is sixteen and he’s never been this tired in his life.

There have been lawyers and court dates and three different therapists. He’s told the story so many times it feels like ash in his mouth. He’s been told just as many times that it wasn’t his fault. That he was manipulated. That Kate was a predator.  
He’s been told but it doesn’t feel true. Because he’s not like one those kids in the scary stories they tell you about “bad touch” and “stranger danger”. He wasn’t forced or held down.

He doesn’t _feel_ like a victim.

But his family look at him like he is; like he’s broken or about to break. Cora used to come to his room at night and fall asleep next to him. She hasn’t touched him in weeks. Her hand keeps pausing in an aborted movement to caress him as if just remembering that he’s _fragile_. His mother shifts from being angry one moment (screaming at lawyers to do their “fucking job”) to looking small and fragile herself. His father and Peter have hushed conversations that cease whenever he walks into the room. Laura’s been out partying every night since the fire; like she’s afraid to fall asleep in a room still smelling faintly of gasoline and mountain ash.

Derek spends hours in his closet. It’s dark and warm there and it’s the only place in the house that doesn’t smell like gasoline. He’s been having trouble breathing since he saw Kate being led through a door in the courtroom and realised that would be last time he would ever saw her.

He feels like he’s submerged in water. Like he wants to gulp down air but his lungs won’t fill. He curls up, knees to his chest, and watches his claws draw and withdraw. He makes a fist and watches as blood drips slowly down his arm. Strangely, that kind of helps.

 

Derek is sixteen and he’s been out of school for months.

Derek is sixteen but he feels like he’s thirty. He doesn’t care about the “awesome party” Lydia Martin threw last week. He doesn’t care about who won the basketball match last Friday or who made first string for lacrosse. Derek is sixteen and he just wants his first day back to go by without anyone saying anything about the attempted murder of his family.

No one knows the full story and he wants to keep it that way.

So he keeps to himself. He doesn’t try to talk to his old friends or teammates. He can’t pretend to be normal. Not when he just wants to go home and wrap himself in his own scent and sleep.

  
He’s not expecting it when it happens.

He’s walking to his bike, relief that the day is over making his steps lazy. Then the scent hits him. Oh well, that’s not quite right. Kate’s artificial scent hit him. This scent wraps itself around him like a favourite sweater; like a comforting weight. It makes Derek pause mid-step and close his eyes, breathe in like he can carry it inside him.

“Dude, awesome, do you have a pump or something?”

The scent belongs to a boy. He’s crouching in front a circus act of a bike. Derek is momentarily distracted by red pinstripes, a wicket basket and an honest to god bell before he registers the question.

“What?”

“A pump, dude. My tire is flat. Jackson, that asshole, probably let the air out.”

The boy stands. He’s shorter than Derek. Buzz cut, pale skin and coke bottle glasses perched precariously on a button nose. His smile is stuck somewhere between shy and ridiculous and a couple things occur to Derek simultaneously.

He smells like the thick tomes on the very top shelf of his father’s study; where all the dust gathers. He smells like freshly cut grass and extra sweet lemonade.

He smells like pack. He smells like mate.

But, he also smells like teenage boy. Like sweat and skin and nerves because Derek has been staring too long.

And Derek is suddenly petrified. Because what if he’s just like Kate? How can he trust his senses when they made him think Kate was mate? And if he is mate…then what? How could he possibly want him when he’s so broken?

So fragile.

“Okay…so I’m just going to go somewhere that’s not here because you’re giving off a serious _Silence of the Lambs_ vibe right now and I’m quite attached to my skin.”

The boy is backing away; scent soured by anxiety and just like that, Derek knows what he wants to do.

“I can…I can give you a ride where you want to go,” he says.

“This isn’t some scheme to get me alone so you can do weird and wicked things to me right? Because the sheriff is my dad and he owns a gun. He owns many guns”

“If it was an evil scheme I wouldn’t exactly tell you beforehand.”

“Oh, well,” he raises one perfectly arched eyebrow, “I guess I’ll just have to trust you even though you look like an extra from _Criminal Minds_.”

“ _Criminal Minds_?”

Both eyebrows go up.

“No no no, please tell me you’re joking. You don’t watch _Criminal Minds_?”

“Should I be?”

“Yes, baby boy you don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Baby boy?”

“You’ll get it when you watch. I’m Stiles Stilinski by the way.”

“Derek.”

So that’s how Derek finds himself with Stiles Stilinski on his handlebars biking through town trying not to ride into the pavement because he’s not used to balancing the weight of another person. Stiles talks the whole time despite the wind blowing in their direction and one hand leaving the bars every so often to balance Derek’s helmet that sits too big on his head.

By the time they stop outside his house Derek knows that Stiles is a freshman, he tried out for lacrosse and just barely made it, Scott McCall is his BFF and he is planning the best prank on Mr Finstock anyone has ever seen.

Stiles hops off Derek’s bike, shuffles his feet a little and pushes his glasses up his nose.  
“I have the complete box set for season one of _Criminal Minds_ if you want to check it out,” he pauses and Derek can just barely hear the slight kick start of his heartbeat, “or you come inside and watch with me?”

Derek freezes up for a moment because he knows what that means. Come inside to watch TV really means come inside and have sex and Derek doesn’t care what Stiles smells like, he doesn’t want that. But, the wind is still blowing and Stiles’ scent keeps wafting his way. Derek has had enough practise in his time alone the past couple of months to recognise what certain changes in scent mean. And Stiles, he doesn’t smell anything like what Kate did when she wanted him.

So he nods his head and Stiles really does have a box set. He also has soda and sarcastic comments about every character. Sitting next to him on his ratty couch watching condensation dripping from a coke can and down long fingers, he feels, for the first time in months, kind of normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know the legal age for driving in America is 16 so in theory Derek could be driving around by then but I just really like the image of a nervous Derek riding around town with Stiles on his handlebars :)
> 
> Here is the link to the mix I have playing right now as my background to this fic. There must be angsty music if angst is to be written (obviously) :) 
> 
> http://youtu.be/d2Y4dFVgS8g


	7. thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry, Derek. I really am. I know you have this sexy loner badass thing going for you right now but I’m officially offering you the tree branch of friendship because I need you in my life.” 
> 
> Derek just blinks at him because the word sexy just left Stiles' mouth as a way of describing him.

**Derek is sixteen**

Derek is sixteen and he knows now not to keep secrets from his family. So after watching three episodes of _Criminal Minds_ with Stiles he bikes home stomach tied up in knots to tell them everything.

He’s giddy and practically bouncing on his feet when he opens the door and sees everyone congregating in the foyer. His father and Peter are shrugging on their coats as he walks in. The tension in the room is enough to tighten the knots in his stomach.

“Where have you been?!” His mother’s eyes are red and her claws are drawn. His mother has so much control Derek can’t even remember the last time he saw her partly shifted.

“I…” but Laura won’t let him finish.

“Dad and Peter where just about to go looking for you. I can’t believe you’re back to sneaking around. Not after everything.”

Her face is all scrunched up in anger but she reeks of worry. Cora is throwing him accusing glances from the foot of the stairs. The happy bubble he’d been in since leaving Stiles’ house bursts suddenly and all he wants to do is slink up the stairs to his room.

“I hope you have a really good explanation,” his father adds.

“I just…I think I found my mate today,” he whispers.

All at once they start sniffing the air and all their eyes go comically wide. Derek feels like an idiot. If he had just brought Kate home like he wanted to, or even skipped the customary shower after seeing her, he could have avoided all the drama he caused. Of course his parents and uncle, with all their years of experience, would be able to scent his true mate.

“Oh, Derek. Yay!” Laura abandons her pretence of anger and folds him in a hug. He sags into it having missed contact with her. “Oh my God, you deserve this. I’m so happy for you.”

“So…who’s the lucky lady,” asks Peter.

Derek tenses and Laura steps back and looks at him. He knows sexuality works differently with wolves (he’s got a fair share of uncles and aunts with same sex partners) but he’s afraid of disappointing everyone once they find out not only is he mated to a boy but a human boy.

“Derek, what is it, honey?” His mother moves into his space and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. He’s made her cry so much in the past couple months he’s so scared to hurt her again.

He doesn’t have to say anything though because Cora beats him to it.  
“Wait…I smell…dude, did you mate with Stiles,” she exclaims, jumping up from the stairs, “You totally mated with the ADHD kid from my class.”

“The sheriff’s boy,” his father asks. Derek nods and waits for the downfall. “Isn’t he the one that found that box of abandoned puppies on the highway and went around handing them out to families?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Peter supplies with a smirk.

“Oh my God, he was so precious. He held one up with this little puppy-dog face trying to get me to take him. I almost died at the cuteness.” Laura looks so pleased it makes Derek smile. From just the little time he’s spent with Stiles he can see him doing that.

“I’ve seen him around the sheriff’s office whenever I go there on consultation. He’s a sweet boy, if a little bit talkative,” his mother smiles and presses her face to his neck, “I’m so happy for you son.”

Soon everyone is in his space touching his hair, his shoulders, and his back. He feels the love and support of his pack and feels almost suffocated by it. He knows he doesn’t deserve this. He knows he almost sacrificed this for a woman that didn’t care about him at all. He flinches when his mother kisses his cheek and he doesn’t know how to hide it.

She sighs and her breath is warm on his cheek.

“Mates are such a blessing. Not everyone gets to experience the beauty and satisfaction of being with someone so intricately designed for them. That being said, this doesn’t have to be forever unless you want it to be. Take your time, son. Get to know him. We’ll be here for you whatever you choose to do.”

“I want to take it slow. I…I don’t want him to feel like he’s being forced into anything.”

“What I’m hearing here is that some wooing is going to take place,” says Laura.

That’s how Derek finds himself in the kitchen following his mother’s recipe for [peanut butter chocolate fudge brownies](http://www.averiecooks.com/2014/04/flourless-peanut-butter-and-chocolate-fudgy-brownies.html) with Laura perched on the breakfast table flipping through a magazine and Cora working her way through his chocolate chip supply.

“So how do you know he’s not allergic to peanuts,” asks Cora.

“He made peanut butter and jam sandwiches when I was over.”

“Oh…he’s providing for you already? What a good mate he is,” Laura drawls.

Derek can feel himself blushing but he secretly enjoys the teasing. Laura’s a senior and plans to go to Columbia to study law like basically everyone else in the family. He’s going to miss her when she’s gone so he can take her making fun of him a little.

“No, I’m going to provide for him,” he replies.  
Both his sisters get this identical look on their faces which, incidentally, is the same face they make when one of Peter’s kids do something cute.

“He’s lucky to have you, Der.”

The next day at school is nauseatingly stressful. Derek is lucky that there are no other shifters in his grade because he knows he must reek of nerves. The brownies are sitting at the bottom of his lunch bag by the time lunch rolls round.

He steps into the cafeteria and finds Stiles immediately as if his body is already attune to him before his mind can catch up. He’s sitting with his friends though and Derek hesitates. Derek hasn’t had lunch in the cafeteria in a long time, opting instead to sneak off with Kate most days and eat alone outside on others. He watches as a curly haired kid puts his arm around Stiles and they bump heads laughing.

Derek feels his heart sink. He’s been making so many assumptions. Who’s to say Stiles would appreciate Derek barging into his life like he has a right to be in it just because they spent one afternoon together. So Derek sits at the nearest table. It’s a testament to his new found reputation as a loner that the kids sitting there up and leave.

Derek is too wrapped up in his self-loathing and ineptitude at courting to notice anyone coming towards him until a pair of familiar sneakers is right under his nose.

“The great and illustrious Derek Hale dinning with the plebs? What have we done to deserve the pleasure?” Stiles’ smile is teasing and his stance is relaxed next to Derek. The longer Derek stares, the more nervous he seems to get. Derek really needs to work on that. “I can see you want your space so…I’m just going to go elsewhere.”

“No! Um…you can sit if you want.”

So Stiles sits across from him, arms folded in front of him, face expectant. Derek has no idea what to talk to him about. It was a lot easier being around him when they had something playing on the TV in the background. So instead of talking, Derek pulls out the plastic bag of brownies and practically shoves them at Stiles.

“For you,” he says.

“Seriously? What for?” He opens the bag and the air is momentarily filled with the smell of peanut butter and chocolate. “Not that I’m complaining or anything.”

“It’s a thank you for introducing me to Criminal Minds yesterday.”

“Dude, that’s nothing to be thankful for. That was a public service. I should be the one baking you sweet treats for giving me a ride home. Not that I can bake, mind you. I mean…my apple pie is on point but…I’m talking too much.”

“No, um, I like it.”

The flush on his cheeks and the way his scent gets all light and fluffy makes the three attempts at baking worth it. Stiles takes a brownie out the bag and offers him one. Derek shakes his head and Stiles puts it in his mouth. The noise he makes is unfairly sinful.

“I’m sorry, Derek. I really am. I know you have this sexy loner badass thing going for you right now but I’m officially offering you the tree branch of friendship because I need you in my life.” Derek just blinks at him because the word sexy just left Stiles' mouth as a way of describing him. “Come on, come meet my friends.”

Derek follows behind Stiles to his friends. He nudges the curly haired one to the side and makes space for Derek. The conversation at the table stills.

“Derek, this boy right here is my brother from another mother, Scott McCall,” he pats the curly haired boy who gives him a nod. “The dimpled Disney princess next to him is his girl Allison,” Derek lets out a breath he didn’t he was holding, “and this fiery goddess is Lydia Martin.” He gestures to a pretty girl in purple opposite him but ignores the brunette werewolf next to her.

“Forgetting someone, Stilinski,” he asks.

“No one of importance.”

“I’m Jackson,” he offers his hand but Derek doesn’t take it.

“The one that messed with Stiles’bike?”

“I did not touch your bike, Stilinski!”

“Mhm…whatever you say,” Stiles says and rolls his eyes.

Derek watches Scott scent the air before making grabbing hands at Derek’s brownies.  
“Dude, are you holding out on me?”

“Nuh uh, these are special thank you brownies are from Derek. Not sharing, nope. And don’t make puppy eyes at me. Time has made me immune.”

Stiles takes out another brownie and eats it slowly, challenging everyone to try and take any from him. Derek can’t even explain how good it feels to watch Stiles eating and refusing to share something he’s made. It makes the wolf inside him want to strut and present.

So it goes like that. Over the months Derek bakes honey cakes, ginger snap cookies, vanilla cupcakes and particularly tart lemon squares dusted in icing powder that Stiles licks off like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to Derek.

In that time Derek is at more than one lacrosse game, usually sandwiched between Lydia and Allison, holding up a sign with Stiles’ name in glitter (made with a lot of help from his cousins). It’s worth the ridicule from Laura and the sly glances he gets from the sheriff for the absolutely dazzling smile he gets from Stiles in each game (even when he’s warming the bench).

After school Stiles introduces him to _Game of Thrones, Greys Anatomy, Perception_ and _Suits_. As the months pass and the weather changes they go from sipping soda to hot chocolate to glasses of lemonade stock full of ice and the space between them on the coach gets smaller and smaller.

One afternoon Stiles’ makes him watch the Batman movies. They’re cradling mugs of tea and Derek isn’t a fan of tea but he loves how the scent of it mingles with Stiles’. The sheriff is home early for once and Derek can hear the shower running. He’d been so scared the sheriff would take one look at Derek, know everything that happened with Kate, and decide he didn’t want his son hanging out with him. But as far as he knows, his case was handled by a different department and, being a minor, his file is sealed shut.

They’re about half way through The Dark Knight when Stiles leans back against one arm rest and pulls his feet up. Derek watches him do it and he looks calm but his heartbeat is accelerating. Slowly Stiles pushes his feet onto Derek’s lap, eyes still fixed on the TV. Derek stills. He waits to Stiles to do something else but his feet stay innocently still.

Stiles has these ridiculously thick socks on. Derek fingers one off and listens for the hitch in his breath as he presses his thumb to the heel of his foot. They sit like that until the end of the movie, Stiles the stillest Derek has ever seen him and Derek touching his mate for the first time.

When they say good night, outside by Derek’s bike, Stiles plants a quick kiss on his cheek, blushes furiously and almost falls in his haste to get back in the house. Derek places his hand on his cheek, skin feeling warm where his mouth just was, and rides away feeling light and careless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know Stiles is all shy and innocent in this chapter but I never figured Stiles would be the type to get with someone he hasn't know for a while (sorry Malia).
> 
> I mean...the guy was in love with Lydia since the third grade.
> 
> Also, if you have the time and the will please try out the brownie recipe. You seriously won't regret it :)


	8. Chapter 8: risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles couldn’t tell if the flutter in his stomach was Bean or just the realisation that he is alone in this.

**Week 20**

Stiles has always liked girls. Before his soul-consuming crush on Lydia Martin, he remembers being half in love with a little blonde girl that used to ride her bike past his house. Stiles loved everything about girls. Their soft hair, the smell of their perfume, the curves underneath their clothes. And well...Stiles is a guy so of course he loved breasts too. If you asked Stiles a couple months ago he’s even go so far as to say he’s a boob guy.  
But as much as Stiles loves breasts...he does not love them on himself. He knew to expect this of course. The nausea and morning sickness has passed but in it’s place is what Werebaby.com calls “breast changes”. It was a subtle change at first. His nipples were kind of tender. He found wearing scratchy material uncomfortable. Then it seemed overnight there was just something there. He isn’t exactly Pamela Anderson...he probably can’t fill out an A cup but there is definitely some changes taking place. Add the occasional heartburn an dizziness to the mix and let’s just say that Stiles was not a happy camper.

Stiles fell into a comfortable routine in order to keep his mind off his rapidly changing body. He woke up early and had a very unexciting meal of granola, yogurt and Deaton’s weird “spirit cleanser”. He then spent like a whole twenty minutes trying to get Ivy out of bed. Usually he would jog while Ivy rode her bright pink bike next to him but sometimes he’s chase her up and down the neighbourhood to give them both a good workout.  
Then there was bath time and cartoon time for Ivy. Stiles would spend most of the morning and afternoon working his way through his online classes and only after Mindy got home did he crack open Deaton’s textbooks.

So far Stiles could make a feather hover in the air and a door open and shut plus there was one memorable day when he turned Ivy’s hair a bright green for he afternoon (much to her delight). Stiles didn’t exactly feel like some great and powerful spark but he figured that magic was like a muscle he hadn’t been flexing for years. It would take time.  
He spent a lot of time planning for after Bean was born. He knew Mindy had no problem with Stiles staying as long as he liked, and admittedly her home started to feel like his, but he didn’t want to impose. He’d read enough online to know that a new baby wasn’t an easy adjustment for a young shifter to make. He didn’t want Ivy to feel uncomfortable in her own home.  
So Stiles found cheap apartment listings near campus (assuming he got in) and a reasonably priced day care centre that caters to young shifters. In one night he’d summarised what he supposed would be his budget for the first few months. It was not pretty.

That’s what led him to posting in one of Werebaby’s chatrooms.

 _DaddyBean here. Anyone know of work opportunities in my area? Skills include; impeccable research skills, mad coffee making ability and a winning personality. Inbox me if interested_.

Stiles really wasn’t expecting much but a couple days later **MamaBear113** sent him a message.

_I’ve been following a lot of your posts and I find your outlook really inspiring. Not a lot of people in your position would have made the choice you did. I run an NGO that specialises in equal treatment of shapeshifters with special focus on wolves. We mainly go to schools and work with staff to eradicate some of the misconceptions people have about wolf packs and shifters in general. I’m working on publishing a monthly magazine for distribution. We could use some freelance writers. I can’t promise it will pay much but I do hope you are interested._

So yeah, that made Stiles feel good. He was doing okay. He was healthy and Bean was healthy. He had a somewhat job offer and he still had his 4.0 in tact. There was no reason for him to feel shitty. Except, of course, Instagram. Because there, on his screen, was Derek. Derek in a Columbia University sweater. Derek taking a selfie with the Statue of Liberty behind him. Derek moving boxes into a dorm room. Derek at a party, red cup in one hand and an arm draped around a pretty girl. Stiles couldn’t tell if the flutter in his stomach was Bean or just the realisation that he is alone in this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it feels like I blinked and suddenly it was Easter. I honestly wish I could get paid to write fanfic all day and ignore adult responsibilities :D Thank you to everyone still reading :) Will be posting a lot more frequently now.


	9. Chapter 9: I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love you,” he says.  
> And his heartbeat doesn’t waver.

**Derek is seventeen, barely.**

Derek is seventeen and about ready to kill his family. It seems every cousin and uncle and distant aunt in his family is in town for the barbeque to celebrate his birthday. He never used to mind family gatherings but now it’s hard to look everyone in the eye. He knows his mom decided to keep the finer details about Kate in the immediate family but there was no way to hide the truth about the fire.  
His older cousins keep making jokes about it. He knows he should just laugh but every new jab just makes him want to crawl into his closet and sleep. It doesn’t help that today is the day he’s going to introduce Stiles to his pack.

Back in the day, before things like animal rights activities and permits, his pack would have gone hunting and killed a tonne of wildlife to commemorate the arrival of a new mate. Stiles would be expected to eat whatever Derek caught himself, strip and run through the forest with Derek at his heels. The then new mated pair would consummate their bond while the rest of the pack circles them, howling in approval.

These days you just throw a party.

Derek is in the backyard building a bonfire and avoiding his cousins when he hears Stiles’ bike. He thinks there’s something wrong with the chain because it makes a very distinctive ticking noise. He knows every were in the family has heard Stiles breach the property line before he sees him. Stiles is the most dressed up Derek has ever seen him. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt, a skinny navy tie and a tweed jacket. His hair has grown out since they started hanging out and he’s got it gelled back. The glasses are unfortunately missing. He’s got a bouquet of lilies in hand that smell freshly cut even though they aren’t in season.  
Derek can feel his heartbeat accelerating. When did Stiles get so...I mean he’d always been cute but...He can almost feel Uncle Peter smirking behind him.

“Hi,” he mumbles.  
“Hi! Your place is super hard to find. If it weren’t for the cars parted by the road I wouldn’t have known which trail to take.”  
Stiles stops in front of Derek expectantly and it takes a moment before Derek hugs him. Stiles’s shampoo and the soap he uses come off him in waves making Derek’s nose tickle.  
“Happy Birthday, dude,” he says, “I couldn’t carry the flowers and you’re present so I’m going to give that to you later.”  
Derek nods and leads him into the house. As they walk past, random family members take turns greeting Stiles. The little ones, not quite understanding human customs, latch onto him and openly sniff. Stiles picks up little Rebecca, Peter’s youngest, and places her on his hip after she practically crawls up his leg. Stiles can’t possibly understand what it means for a cub to take to him so easily. Especially Rebecca who takes after her father in hating everyone.

They enter the main house through the back and Derek takes him to the kitchen where his mom is standing over a steaming pot with Laura handing over ingredients.  
“Oh, this must be Stiles. I’m Talia, how are you?”  
His mom hugs Stiles, squishing Rebecca in the middle. The image makes something twist deep inside Derek’s chest. Laura catches his eye and winks.  
“Hello, Mrs. Hale. These are for you.” He hands his mother the flowers and Derek is pretty certain Stiles has won her over already. Very few humans know that it is customary to bring the alpha a gift when entering his or her territory. “Can I help with anything?”  
“No, dear. Just sit back and relax and we can have a little chat. Derek, why don’t you take this meat out to your father and get the barbeque going. Take Rebecca with you.”  
Stiles shoots him a help me look but Derek knows that tone of voice and he’s not about to go against his mom. Rebecca plants a wet kiss on Stiles’ cheek and latches onto Derek’s neck. Stiles watches him leave.

Outside the sun is low in the sky and the kids are shifting in and out of human form like they can’t decide what’s better. Some of the older kids are chilling by the lake and his aunts and uncles are chatting by the grill. Derek lies back on a log, Rebecca heavy on his chest and the sounds of his pack around him. He can pinpoint each heart beat if he tries hard enough. His mother’s heartbeat feels like the center and everyone else is just background chatter. Everyone except Stiles who’s heartbeat is just a beat or two ahead.  
He thinks about all the lazy afternoons he’s had with him. The days spent at the arcade or the bowling alley with his friends. Late afternoons watching movies and waiting for his dad to come home. Derek feels like he knows every inch of Stiles. Knows every mole and freckle on his face. Knows how his eyes look in early morning sunshine and late afternoon sunset. He knows what he looks like when he’s excited, when he hasn’t slept enough, when he’s missing his mom.  
He knows about the comics under his bed that he used to collect with his dad before he got too busy as sheriff. Knows about the empty bottle of his mom’s favourite perfume he keeps in the bottom draw of his dresser. He knows how brilliant Stiles is. How fast his brain works and how easy he breaks down problems but he still can’t figure out what he wants to do after high school.  
Stiles feels like a novel Derek has read over and over...each time uncovering something new.

“Let’s play, Derek,” Rebecca says. She wolfs out, little claws digging into his favourite henley. Derek bares his teeth at her playfully and she hops off him squealing. Before he knows it, he’s playing hide and seek with the little ones pretending like he can’t hear their muffled giggles.  
He’s tracking Rebecca when he feels Stiles behind him. Derek whirls around and freezes. Stiles hasn’t seen him like this before. He’s been so careful not to let the wolf out around him, not wanting him to be scared.  
Stiles stares and stares. Takes small steps towards him and lifts his hand slowly.  
“Wow, I mean...I knew you were a werewolf. Most of the born Hales are wolves. I just didn’t think...wow.” His hands are gentle, running softly through the hair at his temples. He looks on with no fear and an expression just short of reverent. “Dude, where are your eyebrows?”  
Derek growls at him and he takes off running. Derek is ready to chase.

“You’re supposed to count,” he says as he runs through the property.  
“10...9...8,” he says just short of catching him.  
“You can’t catch me, Sourwolf.”  
“7...6...” He grabs the tail of the jacket and twists Stiles towards him. Buries is face in his neck before he can think about it.  
“You know I’m ticklish, no fair.”  
“5...4...”  
“I love you,” he says.  
And his heartbeat doesn’t waver.

The thing about Stiles is that he’s patient. People don’t think that about him but he is. In all the time he’s spent with Derek, knowing that Derek likes him, he’s never pushed. Never demanded anything that Derek himself didn’t offer up. So Stiles stands still in Derek’s arms...the most still he’s ever been. And Derek knows that he expects nothing. Is demanding nothing.  
So it’s so easy to kiss him. It doesn’t feel like falling but like surrender. Not the burning itch he expected but a cool relief. Like ice-blocks in his mouth on a hot day.  
Derek could kiss and kiss Stiles but Rebecca has another idea. She comes charging out of nowhere and collides with his knees head first taking them all tumbling.  
Derek lies back, the wind knocked out of him but breathing freely for the first time in years.


	10. I love you directly without problems or pride:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles thought developing breasts was the worst part of his pregnancy.

**Week 24**

 

Stiles has always liked school. That might be a really nerdy thing to admit, but it’s true. When his mom started getting sick things got kind of bad at home. It’s like all the colour drained out of his house. The living room wasn’t a place to play anymore. It was where his mom camped out so she wouldn’t have to use the stairs. The kitchen wasn’t the place to make Sunday pancakes. He couldn’t look at it like that anymore. Not after watching his father hide all the kitchen knives because he was scared of what his mom would do. So yeah…school became a reprieve. He didn’t have to worry about his sick mom or how much his dad was drinking if he kept busy. He got into the habit of doing his homework at school and, when that was done, reading book after book in the library. Even when the worst did happen, when he lost his mom, school was still a reprieve.

Stiles always thought graduating would feel different. He would let the principle say his full name. He thought he’d walk across the stage his father and mother walked across. He would be valedictorian, of course. His speech would be about his mom and how school and learning became his escape. It would be inspirational and people would cry. His dad would give him a big hug in front of everyone. He’d take a thousand pictures with Scott. Then later, after the confetti had settled, he’d hang his diploma in-between his father’s and his mother’s, the Beacon Hills High seal plain to see.

 Instead, his dad goes to collect his diploma from the local high school one afternoon after work. They have a quiet lunch where he tells Stiles he’s proud of him. Stiles knows he means it. It’s not everyone that could get pregnant and still manage to graduate early. Stiles already has all his university applications filled. His essays follow a very similar theme; mainly a look into the social classes of species. He’s pretty confident he’s going to get into Berkley’s law program. He’s going change everything that’s wrong with family law at the moment; specifically inter-species practises.

So yeah…Stiles believes his father when he tells him he’s proud. But, there’s still a part of him mentally following the school calendar he should have been following. Right now, Scott and company are probably cramming for Chemistry. There’s always a spot test around this time to help people get they’re marks up. Finstock would be forcing every player into morning runs to get ready for lacrosse season. Maybe Lydia would design something for the science expo. They might be planning where they’re going to go for the customary senior ditch day.

Last year, Derek’s year, they all went to a water park. He remembers spending hours riding each ride and making fun of Derek when he didn’t want to try one. Derek bought him more ice cream than was strictly advisable. He ended up being sick in the bathroom, Derek’s hand a comforting presence on his back. Later, he sipped iced ginger tea while camped out under an umbrella. Derek kept apologising even though it wasn’t his fault. He sat with Stiles instead of hanging out with his classmates for, possibly, the last time.

Stiles thinks if his father knew just how often he imagines himself in that abortion clinic, how often he rewrites his past to include a future where he can feel that carefree and adored again, he wouldn’t be so proud.

 

**Week 30**

Stiles thought developing breasts was the worst part of his pregnancy. He thought the confused stares he got from weres and humans alike was bad. Waking up with weird cravings for red meat was inconvenient (seeing as how he was on a strict veggie and white meat diet) and his feet felt like someone had taken a hammer to them repeatedly. All that was unpleasant, sure, but the worst part happened in the shower two months before his due date.

Stiles had read all the baby books so he really should have expected the thick sleek covering his fingers after washing his ass. He stares at the pale substance between his fingers almost detached. He understands the biology behind it. He knows his body is just getting ready to give birth. Nothing about it is supposed to be odd or weird. But it is. It is so odd and weird and kind of scary. In under two months his body is going to reorganise itself do something it was never truly designed to do. If he doesn’t get to Dr Deaton in time and get a c-section…no he’s not going to think like that.

He places his damp hand over his stomach and watches as water pools and runs down it. Bean is lying horizontally. Stiles can feel Bean’s occasional kick. He likes to think it’s because Bean already loves water. Stiles thinks about summer days with Bean, teaching him or her how to swim. He thinks about taking Bean to the water park he went to with Derek. About being there and not being sad because he gets to make new memories with his child. His child who will wear as many floaters as possible and a bucket of sunscreen. He thinks about bubble baths and trips to the ocean. Water balloon fights and school swimming galas. He thinks about the life he gets to build.

Stiles can handle this. This is nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in updating. Was writing exams so there was little room for anything else. But now I'm on holiday and I have loads of time to dedicate to finishing this fic :) I'm going to try to update every day *crosses fingers*  
> Thank you for everyone still reading. All your questions will be answered in a couple chapeters after Stiles' POV :)
> 
> Oh, and happy father's day everyone :)


	11. I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Too soon,” he whispers, “it’s too soon.”  
> And then the darkness at the edge of his vision consumes him.

**Week 34**

Stiles always thought the whole pregnancy cravings thing was bullshit, to be honest. He watched the comedies and read the books with pregnant women busy eating chalk or peanut butter on pickles and it all sounded like nonsense. He takes it back now. It’s ten at night and Stiles is in the freezer section of a 7/11 because he just needs Rocky Road ice-cream with some string cheese if he can find it. He’s been cooped in all week working on his magic and ticking the days to his due date so a short walk to the store felt like a good idea. His stomach is too big for his jeep and he didn’t want to wake Mindy so he just stepped out.

He’s debating whether or not a litre of whipping cream is overkill when he feels it. Dr Deaton told him what to expect when labour kicked in and Stiles has watched his fair share of YouTube videos. I mean, he even wrote an article for Werebaby.com about what to expect when expecting (the male version). So he really shouldn’t be surprised by the puddle of liquid slowly spreading at his feet. He’s phone is half way to his ear, with Dr Deaton’s number on speed dial, when the piercing pain hits him.

He’s on the floor before he registers his phone lying next to an open container of ice cream, Deaton’s voice small and distant. He tries to remember the breathing exercises, tries to call out to the girl at the till, tries to do anything but black out from the pain. He knows this isn’t good. It shouldn’t feel like this. It shouldn’t feel like something is being ripped out of him. And it shouldn’t be this early.

“Too soon,” he whispers, “it’s too soon.”  
And then the darkness at the edge of his vision consumes him.

                                                                                                                    *****

Stiles hates hospitals. It’s not even the memory of his mother in hospital that gets him, it’s just the feel of the place in general. He hates the smell, he hates the dull and sterile colours, and he hates the tired looking nurses and the impatient doctors. Stiles especially hates the hospitals at night. As a kid he was convinced there were ghosts hiding in every dark corner. The days his mother had to stay overnight at the hospital were always the worst.

Waking up in a hospital bed at night is not what Stiles expected. He takes in multiple details at once. One, the room he’s in looks too similar to the room they put his mother in. The walls are pea green and there’s a painting of a field of lavender hanging directly opposite him. Two, he’s very cold. Someone must have turned the air conditioning on low and he’s only wearing a hospital gown. Three, he can’t feel Bean anymore.

The tears fall silently and without hesitation. He can feel his chest contracting and the rational part of him knows this is a panic attack. The heart monitor attached to him starts to accelerate and Stiles wonders how long it will take someone to figure out he’s not okay. He places his hand over his heart and tries to slow his breathing but all he can think of is the emptiness inside him. He closes his eyes.

“Stiles? Stiles…son…breathe son.”  
He opens his eyes and through the tears he can see his dad in the chair next to his bed, his hand over Stiles’ hand. It makes Stiles think, briefly, of all the times his dad has talked him out of a panic attack. But this time it’s different. This time his heart is breaking.  
“Son, she’s okay. She’s perfectly okay. Just…just wait a moment.”

His dad breathes with him and slowly the pain in his chest and the pressure in his head subsides. He’s just putting himself together when a nurse comes in rolling a little pink bundle. All at once Stiles feels his body tense and relax. Fresh tears pool and fall as the sheriff lifts the bundle up and into Stiles’ waiting arms. Stiles looks down, through tears and fading fear, and sees his heart and soul for the first time. She tilts her little head just a bit closer, like she recognises him as hers, and opens her eyes. And for the second time in his life, Stiles falls in love kaleidoscope green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...so yeah...the whole posting every day thing did not happen. Thank you to all those still reading :) It just occurred to me this story is getting a little longer than I initially anticipated and the poem I'm using for the titles isn't going to be long enough. Any suggestions? What are your favourite poems?


	12. except in this form in which I am not nor are you,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena deserves so much more than what Stiles can give her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The child abandonment tag comes through in this chapter so if you think that will be triggering for you then feel free to skip reading this one :)

**Lena is six months old**

Someone’s dog is barking. Stiles thinks it’s the bull terrier that belongs to the couple two houses down. It barks maybe five or six times before it goes quiet for about fifteen seconds and then it starts up again. Stiles is pretty sure there’s a spell somewhere in his collection of spell books and journals that could silence the dog forever. He thinks very hard about looking through the dusty pile at the foot of his bed but that would require him to move. He doesn’t think he has it in him.  
He counts the barks and the silences in between. He breathes in and out and tries to will himself to sleep.  
He’s been watching the alarm clock next to his bed blink through the passing hours. In three hours he’ll have to get up and start his day. Today is Wednesday…or maybe it’s Thursday. If it’s Wednesday then he has a two hour contract law tutoring session he can’t miss but if it’s Thursday he only has a business law and sociology lecture and he can miss that. He’s pretty sure he has a family law essay he’s meant to hand in but he can’t remember if it’s due this Friday or if the lecturer said Monday. He tried starting it yesterday but every time he opened his laptop Lena would start bawling.  
It feels like he hasn’t slept in days. He feels like he hasn’t had a coherent thought in months. It reminds him of when he first got diagnosed with ADHD. How he had all these strings tangled up in his head that he couldn’t smooth out no matter how much he tried. Stiles isn’t sure if he wants to get up and run or if he just wants to sink into his sheets and never move again.

The bull terrier is on its eleventh sequence of barking when Lena starts snuffling. She always does that before she starts crying. Stiles used to find it cute but now it just makes his heart sink. He stares at the baby blue crib in the corner of his room. It looks so far away.  
He tries to stand but it feels like there’s a weight sitting firmly on his chest. His arms refuse to lift and his mind is full of cotton. He wrote an essay about sleep paralysis for a biology class once. He idly ticks off the points he once wrote while his daughter starts to cry.  
He’s gotten to his conclusion by the time Mindy stumbles into his room bleary eyed.  
“Stiles? Can’t you hear her,” she demands. When she gets no response from him she scoffs and goes to the crib. Lena looks so small swaddled in a thick baby blanket. Mindy lets her rest on her breast and gently rocks her. It looks so natural when she does it. She’s all softness and motherhood. Her hair falls in delicate curls around her shoulders; dark and soft like Lena’s. It hurts Stiles’ heart to watch but he forces himself to.  
“You can’t just leave her to cry, Stiles. I know the past couple months have been difficult but she will start sleeping through the night as she gets older. It does get easier.”  
It gets easier. That’s what all the baby books keep saying. That’s what werebaby.com keeps saying. Fuck, he’s even written an article about breastfeeding and said just that. The thing is, Stiles just doesn’t see this getting any better. He’s barely passing his courses even though he’s signed up for an extended degree. His magic is all over the place. He can’t focus long enough to make any spell work the way he wants it to.  
His own daughter hates him. She’s always crying and Stiles can never figure out what she wants from him. He’s sucking at this and everyone knows it. Mindy has Ivy going to a full time day care centre now so even she knows Stiles can’t handle this. Lena deserves so much more than what Stiles can give her. She’d be better off without him. All he can do is disappoint her and hurt her.  
“I’ll sleep with her tonight so you can get some sleep. You look like you need it.”  
He watches as Mindy cradles his baby and walks out with her. He barely has the energy to look away.

Delict is a term in civil law jurisdictions for a civil wrong consisting of an intentional or negligent breach of duty of care that inflicts loss or harm and which triggers legal liability for the wrongdoer…

Delict is a term in civil law jurisdictions for a civil wrong consisting of an intentional or negligent breach of duty of care that inflicts loss or harm and which triggers legal liability for the wrongdoer…

Delict is a term in civil law jurisdictions for a civil wrong consisting of an intentional or negligent breach of duty of care that inflicts loss or harm and which triggers legal liability for the wrongdoer…

Stiles has read the same sentence at least five times now. Lena is in her high chair at the kitchen table with a bowl of mashed carrots. She liked mashed carrots yesterday. Yesterday she ate all her carrots and even smiled at him. Today she hates them. She refuses to eat any of it and last time Stiles put her to his chest to feed she pushed him away. He needs to complete an online quiz in the next hour and he’s done none of the reading. He’s pretty sure he’s bombing this class and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Back in high school work had been easy. And even when it wasn’t, he knew who to go to for help. If he wasn’t borrowing notes from Lydia then he was getting extra credit from teachers. At university, he’s just one name on a class list of five hundred or more. No one cares if he didn’t have time to do his readings because his baby had a cold from hell last week. No one cares that he’s only been to two of his philosophy lectures all semester because Lena’s babysitter doesn’t work on Mondays. And no one cares that Stiles feels like the biggest failure of a son because his fifty year old dad has to take on extra shifts at work to pay for baby diapers.

“Please…please just eat the fucking carrots!”

He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t mean to yell. And he especially doesn’t mean to let go of the ball of magic that seems to push forward from his very core. He watches, it feels, in slow motion as the ball of pure energy sores and hits the top of Lena’s chair just barely missing her head. The silence that follows is almost comical. There’s a buzzing in his ears and he can see, even if he can’t feel, his hands shaking where they stand outstretched in front of him. Lena is big eyed and silent; mouth pink in a soft o. She snuffles once, twice, and Stiles runs before she starts to cry. He grabs his keys, his wallet an afterthought, and climbs into his jeep. He drives and drives and tries to fight off the panic attack waiting surely in the horizon. His vision blurs but he keeps driving. He knows now, more than he did before, that Lena deserves better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is having a happy Sunday :) Thank you for all those still reading despite my snail pace writing.


End file.
